Reflections #1
Jesu, Christlike, Flanger Magazine, Joe Zawinul
Hello World. Welcome.
This is the first Western Launch post and I find it best to jump right in. How else will you gauge our taste-alignment?
No need to act like I’m some obscuro curator presenting music that you’ve never heard. I know that if you’ve been into heavy music, especially shoegaze or industrial sounds, you’re likely aware of the masterfully blown-out bliss which is Justin Broadrick’s Jesu. This album has not left my frequent listening cycle in over two years. The crushing down-tuned guitars and bass create a chrome capsule that bounce echoed vocals into the shimmering synthesizers that fill the room. The opening track “Conqueror” begins with a spiraling ascension, a countdown to escape velocity, then you’re hit with the first blow of fresh air above the clouds. Broadrick brings you to these heights only to ask you, “Now, who do you miss down there?” And you might just say, “nobody.” The songs are heavy, but so delicate at the same time. Moments of brutalness are seamlessly transitioned into angelic beauty. The lyrics are short poems of isolation and abandonment, and yet attempts are made at recognizing a self-assured happiness. “And they will deceive us and they will desert us. But all our colours will always be with us.” Broadrick is noted to have said that Jesu was his attempt at pop music. Don’t expect radio play, but “medicine is all we need,” rings in my head endlessly. The one line hook is a theme throughout the album. Ted Parsons’ drumming on this album should not go unnoted. Each song is effortlessly restrained and explosive at the same time. I’ll be listening to this album once a month forever, and if I miss a month, I’ll listen twice.
My dude didn’t bother putting this on bandcamp so you need a spotify subscription. I’ve been following Spencer Gundersen from not-so-afar ever since we shared music on Stereobird. His previous record, Sages, was a mix of singer folk, meditation jams, and heavy lo-fi tape static. In Spirit is a break from Gundersen’s developed desert polaroid soundtrack and ventures further into the electronics he’s dabbled in, notably the single “At Play” from last November. “D” marries the two Christlikes into a cohesive trip improv jam that sounds like a 90’s kroutrock classic. The “Floats on Dust'' suite reminds me of Fridge at times–the long delay of what sounds like the strum of strings behind the bridge played under the shaker and looped electric piano. I remember sharing Fridge’s “Early Output 1996-1998” compilation with Spencer a couple years back. Hmm. I wonder…? I’m in love with this new sound for Christlike. Not sure if it’s a new direction or a detour or a modulation or a rebirth, but it’s something I can believe in.
I have been stoked on this album since its release and kind of haven’t shut up about it. At a birthday party at Heaven or Las Vegas last week, someone asked me what music I listen to and I said, “Flanger Magazine.” After the Bend has reconnected me to my previous home, Louisville, and paints in my head the pictures of friends and scenery I left behind. Flanger Magazine is Chris Bush and his collection of friends who help build these beautiful free jazz explorations. I think this collaborative feel spurs my nostalgia. Field recordings of river critters, ambient electronics, crisp and clean acoustic guitars and fiddles all sing for the regional nature in a way words couldn’t. Bush could teach a master class on modular synthesizing and this album would be all you need to know that his control and subtlety is a craft worth studying. This album makes riding the train feel like tubing down a gentle stream. My aspirations to tell the world about this album was a catalyst to me starting this blog. Am I saying too much? I don’t think so. I guess I love this record and I hope you will too.
I found this album while crate digging for a birthday gift. No, not the one mentioned above, it’s just the birthday season, I guess. I purchased the used record based on the cover art and my intrigue into just how crazy this was going to be after listening for a brief moment in the store. This is my first Joe Zawinul record. And it is indeed a weird one. The synthesizers explore tones and recreate “world” instruments (steel drums, horns, gongs, etc.), and the drum machines are repetitive and sound a bit industrial–the second track “Waiting for the Rain” could be a Trent Reznor track if he chilled out a bit. The album heavily features vocoders, Bobby McFerrin’s scatting or “onomatopoetics”, and a Zawinul created language. Zawinul wrote this album alone and, though I’m no expert of his discography, Di•a•lects seems to be a stand-out project, even if just for the novelty. For the first few days after finding it, I really couldn’t put it down, but I began to have some feelings that maybe elements of this record feel appropriative. I mean, even just looking at the cover art’s representation of Africa and South Asia depicted with women’s breasts and the beast of a man in Australia. I’ve felt conflicted about the use of his created language that sounds vaguely “African”; should he have learned an existing language or hired singers who spoke such a language? This album’s theme follows the trend in 80’s world music of “one race, one world” ideology and I understand Zawinul’s attempt to dismantle language as a way to show the arbitrariness of cultural differences. All the while, I really enjoy his playing and the dark, eerie electronic tones that to me represent the fear of the oncoming digital age Zawinul was staring down and maybe even accelerating.
Update:
Thank you for reading my first post. I plan to give insightful reflections and recommendations regularly, probably twice a month, and I’ll adjust my frequency as needed going forward. Plus, I want to eventually expand the writing into more than just personal reviews of what I’ve been listening to. Hey, it’s a journey.